The Original Curse
by AwkwardedOut
Summary: They disdained that which they did not understand, and feared it even more. And so they cast it away, banishing it to the deepest depths they knew, far away from Olympus. There was only one problem: there was no one to guard it and all the souls that entered it.
1. Chapter 1

**The Original Curse**

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.

Summary: They disdained that which they did not understand, and feared it even more. And so they cast it away, banishing it to the deepest depths they knew, far away from Olympus. There was only one problem: there was no one to guard it and all the souls that entered it.

For this story, I'm not interested in getting all the facts of Greek mythology right. I just wanted to write a story with Hades from Once Upon a Time.

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

The gods were immortal, and that meant life eternal, but that didn't mean they couldn't die. Certainly, very few things could kill a god, but those that could were feared by those gods of lesser character. In fact, anything associated with death was treated with disdain. It was such a mortal concept, such a human one. The majority of the gods wanted only to indulge in decadence, to eat, drink, party, and simply enjoy their eternal lives without having to worry about responsibilities or the world at large beyond what amused them.

Olympus and its inhabitants had not always been this way. There was once a time when Olympus had been a place where order reigned, and each god carried out his or her duty with care and precision. Over the centuries, however, the authority figures in Olympus began to lose themselves in their vices, retreating from the world, and neglecting their duties. They prompted the lesser gods to follow their example as well, lest they be deemed an outcast, or worse—forced to suffer the same fate as _him_.

In the beginning, many of the inhabitants were displeased with the way Olympus was being run, but none of them were brave enough to go against Zeus and his decrees. Especially since they knew what would happen if they spoke out, they could only follow the deity's examples. And so the glory of Olympus slowly deteriorated as its inhabitants' apathy increased.

* * *

It was the same argument they had had a thousand times, and he was truly loath to enter into yet another, but what else could he do?

"I can't _live_ in the Underworld. It is the realm of the _dead_. If a living being stayed there long-term, it would upset the entire balance of the realm," Hades stated for the thousand-and-first time.

"Yes, of course you're right, brother," Zeus conceded.

"Yes, you stubborn idiot, it _would_ —" Hades broke off and stared at Zeus in shock. His brother never agreed with anyone so easily. He was the type who always had to dominate an argument, even if he was clearly in the wrong. No, he must have misheard.

"What did you just say?" he asked, certain that Zeus would respond by telling him he was a god, he could live in the Underworld if the king of the gods demanded it, laws of nature be damned—or something along those lines.

"I said, you're right," Zeus repeated, much to Hades' confusion. Maybe his brother was finally coming to his senses a little. Well it was about damn time.

Feeling a little disoriented from shock, but determined to plow on, Hades said, "Good. Maybe now we can start to figure out a way to handle this problem."

"I agree. I trust I can leave this task in your capable hands?" Zeus asked. Hades thought he detected a hint of sarcasm in his brother's voice, but decided to ignore it, since they seemed to finally be making progress on this issue.

"I'll draw up some plans, but as I've said before, the most effective course of action in the long run is to slowly integrate the Underworld back into Olympus."

"We can discuss everything at tomorrow's meeting," Zeus said, then waved airily in Hades' general direction, indicating he was dismissed.

Hades glowered at his brother in annoyance, and had to consciously stop himself from starting an argument with Zeus. For one thing, it wasn't worth it. For another, if he did start an argument now, he wasn't entirely sure Zeus wouldn't actively impede all of Hades' efforts to solve their Underworld issue just to spite him. Sometimes, the bigger picture came before petty sibling rivalries. And so, Hades turned on his heels and left, smirking to himself as he heard Zeus' grunt of annoyance that he hadn't risen to the bait.

* * *

The next day saw Hades with a large scroll rolled up beneath his arm, returning to the great hall where his brother liked to hold council. When he entered the room, he noticed that Zeus was speaking with another person in low tones. They both sat at the long marble table that ran the length of the hall; Zeus was positioned facing his general direction; the other person sat with his back turned to Hades, but even turned away from him, Hades was able to recognize his brother Poseidon.

He glanced at his other brother suspiciously. Poseidon had never joined their discussions before. Why would he be suddenly taking an interest now?

Zeus' eyes flickered over to Hades and the conversation seemed to have come to a conclusion. He figured Poseidon was only there to see Zeus about a matter regarding his oceanic realm. Now that their business was concluded, he expected his other brother to leave and return to his underwater kingdom. However, as he stopped before the two gods, Poseidon gave no indication of leaving.

"Hades! I haven't seen you in ages!" Poseidon greeted.

"I saw you just at the turn of the century," Hades stated. "It hasn't even been a decade."

"Is that so? Well, what do you know…" Poseidon laughed halfheartedly. He made to pat Hades on the back before seeming to realize what he was about to do and his hand changed course to scratch his head instead.

Although he tried to hide it, the slight flinch on Poseidon's face was not lost on Hades, but he merely ignored his brother's less than subtle cover-up. It was nothing new. None of the gods touched him if they could avoid it. Some of them couldn't even handle being in the same room as him—not since he had been charged with watching over the Underworld. It was an occupation which required him to spend copious amounts of time around the dead, and every time he returned to Olympus after a period of time governing the souls in his realm, the rift between himself and the other gods only grew.

At some point, he discovered someone had replaced his proper title Lord of the Underworld and renamed him as the Lord of Death instead, as if he were the cause of that particular affliction, or had any control over it. Death was a force of nature all its own; he merely provided guidance for those it had claimed. He found the name a mockery of his duties and detested it. He suspected Zeus was the culprit, but his brother continued to deny it. Of course, that didn't stop him from using the address whenever he felt like annoying Hades. At least no one besides his brother dared use it in his presence—not after small tremors shook Olympus the one time someone was careless enough to let the name slip when addressing him. Still, he knew that was how they continued to view him in their hearts and minds.

Their treatment had been disconcerting, even hurtful, at first, but he had since grown accustomed to their unease. At any rate, it didn't do any good to dwell on these things. Not when there were more important matters at hand, such as the fate of the thousands of souls in his charge.

Moving over to stand beside Zeus, Hades took the scroll he had brought along and unfurled it onto the table before them. With a wave of his hand, four weights materialized to sit on the four corners of the scroll. Spread before them was an intricate diagram depicting the Underworld. Another wave of his hand caused the diagram to rise off the scroll and take on a three-dimensional form.

"This is the original Underworld, what we started with when it was carved out of Olympus." Hades pointed to the center of the image, which depicted a circular cavern several hundred feet underground at the base of the magical diagram. Included in this category was aboveground area over the cavern.

"These," he continued, gesturing to what appeared to be several tunnels sprouting from the central cavern, as well as the corresponding areas aboveground, "are the areas that we have had to attach onto the original. The souls entering my realm are increasing at a rapid rate, and soon I will have to add on even more extensions."

"I don't really see the problem," Poseidon commented. "Why can't you just continue building onto the Underworld to accommodate them?"

"Because the further these outliers are from the realm's core, the less stable they are. It takes an enormous amount of my magic to keep everything from falling apart, and I have had to remain there for longer periods of time each time I return. The last time I was there, I was unable to leave for fifteen years."

"That isn't so bad. I've been underwater for decades at a time. You're just upset because you never wanted this job in the first place."

"No…" Hades ground out. "I may not have wanted to oversee the souls of the dead, but I take my duty seriously."

Poseidon shrugged. "So what's the problem with spending a few extra years down there?"

"Your situation is different. Your domain is still a part of the living world. Mine was meant to house the souls of the dead for eternity. For a living being to spend years there—decades—it would upset the balance of the natural order. If the realm had been allowed to stay in its original location, the natural magic of our home would have facilitated the Underworld's growth as needed, and I would have been able to govern my domain and its inhabitants without upsetting the natural balance. This realm was never meant to be separated from Olympus."

Hades stared pointedly at Zeus as he said all of this, but the god of the skies seemed unperturbed.

A small smile crept its way across the god's face as he said, "Well, Hades, you'll be happy to know that I have given this problem a great amount of thought, and I think I've found the perfect solution."

"Zeus thinks you should kill off a few thousand of the mortals, that way it'll slow down their population growth." Poseidon blurted out. Zeus shot him an annoyed look, probably for stealing his thunder.

Hades was speechless. Turning to Zeus, he said, "You can't be serious."

"They're mortal. They die," Zeus responded. "A couple decades sooner or later hardly makes a difference."

"Think about it, brother," interjected Poseidon. "Yes, there'll be an influx of souls now, but it'll slow down the rate at which the population grows for a few generations. It wouldn't even be that hard. You could cause a few earthquakes; that ought to take care of a couple hundred; and I could create a couple of floods if you wanted—"

"Enough!" Hades exclaimed. "We are not going to massacre hundreds—possibly thousands—of people."

"But—" Zeus placed a hand on Poseidon's shoulder, cutting off his protest.

"You see, Poseidon? Didn't I tell you? I knew he wouldn't agree to that strategy. Which is why I have already come up with an even better one."

Hades was about to ask what this so-called perfect solution was, but suddenly felt a crushing pressure attacking him from all sides at once, binding his limbs and threatening to crush his ribs with their force.

"What is going on?" he gasped out. He struggled against the binding both magically and physically.

"He's strong. I don't think I can hold him long," Poseidon said, voice slightly strained.

"Well, we'd better get on with it, then," Zeus responded.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Original Curse**

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.

Summary: They disdained that which they did not understand, and feared it even more. And so they cast it away, banishing it to the deepest depths they knew, far away from Olympus. There was only one problem: there was no one to guard it and all the souls that entered it.

For this story, I'm not interested in getting all the facts of Greek mythology right. I just wanted to write a story with Hades from Once Upon a Time.

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

"Well, we'd better get on with it, then," the god of the skies said as he moved to stand directly in front of Hades.

When Zeus stepped within arm's length, Hades struggled harder against his magical bindings, pouring more energy into breaking them.

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Hades of his captors. Poseidon glanced over at his other brother.

"What you wanted, of course—saving all those souls," Zeus responded.

"Whatever you think you're doing… Don't. Nothing good will come of it," Hades warned.

Zeus shook his head slowly, clicking his tongue in disappointment. "I know you think your plan is the only way to keep the Underworld from going to pieces, but the other gods, they can't handle having Death so close to their homes, to be so near to it every day. There is another way—a better way."

"Brother, please. This is what's best for Olympus," Poseidon pleaded.

"Of course you would be on his side," Hades spat.

"Zeus," Poseidon grunted. Hades could feel his brother's magic being drained by the task of keeping him under control. He put forth another burst of energy.

Just as the restraints over Hades shattered, he felt Zeus' hand plunging into his chest and closing around his heart, grip unyielding. From his hand spread a coldness—a deadness that chilled Hades to his core. The invasive magic didn't stop at his heart, but moved throughout his entire being, slowing his body's processes. Everything slowed in the wake of the coldness, and he could feel his body dying a slow death until eventually, his heart stopped beating, his blood stopped flowing, and his limbs stopped working.

When Zeus released Hades, the god of the Underworld toppled over.

"He seems… dead," Poseidon's voice was barely above a whisper. "I can't sense any life force coming from him."

"He'll be fine," Zeus responded easily.

"What have you done?" Hades asked, trying to pick himself up. It was difficult, moving limbs that wouldn't respond to his commands. He was also still reeling from the unnatural feeling of stillness in his chest. He felt… dead. And yet, he hadn't ceased to exist.

"What I've just _done_ is fixed all of our problems," Zeus responded. "The problem _you've_ been complaining about for centuries. You could be a little more grateful."

"Grateful? You stupid… selfish… idiot! What you have done will have repercussions you couldn't even begin to comprehend!" he spat.

"This is your problem, Hades!" retorted Zeus, the smug look melting off as he became angered as well. "You're too serious, always making predictions about death and destruction. It's why the other gods are so afraid of you."

"The other gods are afraid of me because they are stupid and weak!" The words had been buried in his heart for several centuries now, but he had never spoken them aloud. He had thought that despite their flaws, he should still show respect for his fellow deities. For some reason, none of those prior considerations seemed to matter anymore. He felt only a coldness that bled into his thoughts.

"You're not wrong," Zeus agreed. "Which is why you are the perfect candidate for this."

"Perfect candidate for death? Looks like you failed." He tried to laugh, but sound came out cracked and broken.

"You misunderstand me, brother! I wasn't trying to kill you. This is better!" Zeus spread his arms and paused for dramatic effect, "I call this stroke of brilliance… the Spell of the Living Dead! It gives you the semblance of death, and allows you to bypass all those pesky laws you keep going on about. Now you can stay with your charges indefinitely and rule them as a true king of the Underworld should."

"A curse of simulated death," Hades whispered in horror.

"Only you would call it a curse," Zeus huffed.

"Do you even understand what you had done?"

"Don't be so dour, dear brother. It's only temporary, while we work out another solution. Once we figure that out, I'll undo the spell." Zeus began to walk out of the hall, with Poseidon not far behind, the latter shooting anxious glances behind him.

Hades didn't acknowledge their exit; he could only stare at his hands, watching the color drain from his skin as the semblance of death took hold.

* * *

The sun was setting on Olympus, painting the horizon bloody with its rays. It wasn't just the horizon that was affected, though; the tops of the buildings, white in the day, were cast in gold at dusk. As the sun continued its descent, shadows spilled across the cobbled lanes below and climbed up the facades of buildings.

Hades took in the sight with more than a touch of regret. Although he knew it was but a chariot in the sky, the view was beautiful all the same. But it was one that he wouldn't be able to see from the Underworld. At the thought of giving up the sight and not knowing when he'd ever set eyes on it again, he felt a small pang in his heart. He immediately focused on the area of his breast where his heart was housed, closed his eyes and trained his ears, waiting… but there was nothing. It had all been his imagination, a phantom in his mind.

Opening his eyes once more, flickers of motion caught his attention. Shifting his attention below, he watched as tiny dots in the distance scurried from street to street, building to building, the other gods going about their quotidian existences. None of them knew the sacrifice he was making for the sake of their continued ignorance; he doubted any of them would care even if they knew.

Hades' fists tightened at the thought. It was only with a concerted effort that he unfurled them. His time in the Overworld was growing short. Seeing little reason in delaying the inevitable, he abruptly turned from the sight. Conjuring blue flames that wrapped around him, he teleported to the Underworld. Looking around the stone cavern, his face settled into a grim expression.

Home sweet home.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Original Curse**

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.

Summary: They disdained that which they did not understand, and feared it even more. And so they cast it away, banishing it to the deepest depths they knew, far away from Olympus. There was only one problem: there was no one to guard it and all the souls that entered it.

For this story, I'm not interested in getting all the facts of Greek mythology right. I just wanted to write a story with Hades from Once Upon a Time.

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

The Underworld featured long, winding streets lined on either side by Grecian architecture that had been carved out of marble. During a bout of homesickness, Hades had designed the buildings to be mirror images of the ones on Olympus, the structures bright white in color, standing tall and proudly reaching toward the sky. But the structures he created never shone as they were meant to; instead, their brilliance was muted by the red sun and constantly clouded skies of the Underworld. Although he liked to pretend that it was home, it provided a rather depressing effect overall.

At least the other denizens didn't appear to mind. Even the ones unfamiliar with Grecian structures adjusted quickly. Anyway, they were places for the denizens to seek shelter. They didn't need shelter, of course, as they were no longer living flesh, and therefore no longer servile to the necessities of life. But having these lodgings and having food—Hades had found that it helped soothe the souls, particularly the ones who had not quite accepted their deaths yet. Going through the motions of life served as a transition to allow them to come to terms with their deaths, just as figuring out their unfinished business was a transition to their completing it and ultimately moving on.

It was Hades' job to take care of the souls in his domain, and to aid them in moving on. Every day, he performed those duties. He would welcome new souls fresh off the ferry to his domain and explain to them the fundamentals: why they were here, how they could move on, and where they would go afterward. There were some long-term "residents" who had made the Underworld their home, souls who had either had no luck figuring out their unfinished business; or those who preferred this limbo to moving on, because moving on didn't necessarily mean going to the good place. Hades couldn't blame the people in the latter category; he could have forced them to confront their fate, whatever it may be, but he chose to take pity on them instead. As long as they didn't cause trouble in his realm, he turned a blind eye to their continued residence there.

Hades would patrol the streets, mainly on the lookout for miscreants, but also using it as an opportunity to wander through the markets that sprang up every morning and lasted long into the night. Some of those who had been there for a while had started up businesses selling food, clothing, labor, and information. Architectural style aside, as the Underworld continued to take in souls from all the realms, it had become a melting pot of disparate rhythms and cultures, all of which spilled onto the cobbled streets in an amalgam of sound and color. All the activity gave the place an even greater semblance of life and living. Being in the thick of it allowed him to feel like he belonged to that world again; he could pretend, however briefly.

Sometimes a new extension would need to be added, a new building magicked into existence, or an altercation between souls settled. The long-termers would greet him; some would bow, while some of the more rebellious would wave cheekily or shout a greeting from across the street. Zeus probably would have smote his worshippers if they dared break decorum, even in such a small way, but Hades didn't mind quite so much. These weren't his worshippers, they were his charges. Sometimes he might even stop for a moment and converse with someone, ask how he was getting along, whether he was making progress with moving on and such. These small things gave the entire exchange an air of friendliness that he enjoyed.

As he was finishing up his last round, one of the long-termers called out to him.

"Lord Hades!" a great bellow sounded from behind.

Recognizing the voice, Hades considered teleporting back home then and there. He could pretend he hadn't heard. But the sound of heavy footsteps told him it was too late to feign ignorance. Within a second, the owner of the voice was upon him.

Hades turned around to face the one who'd spoken. He was a large man, heavily built, with cords of muscle standing out on his bare arms. His face was square, the lower half almost entirely obscured by a dark beard; Hades suspected the beard had been left to grow unchecked to make up for the lack of hair on the person's dome. The man was covered in soot from a long day in front of the furnace. A smithy by trade in life, the man had decided to continue his occupation after death.

"Hello, Smith," Hades greeted, sighing internally.

"Find anyone breaking the law today?"

"No, it's been fairly quiet today."

"Good, good. I just wondered, did you see any ghosts today?" Smith paused, and Hades felt dread creeping over him. "Because you look as pale as death!"

The blacksmith burst out laughing at his own joke, and Hades could only grimace. He really should have teleported out when he'd had the chance. After a long moment, the laughter subsided, replaced by a large grin that was evident even beneath the beard.

"You only came over to harass me, didn't you?" Hades asked in a long-suffering tone.

Smith's response was another burst of laughter as he walked away. "Anyway, have to get back to work. Just got a commission for some new equipment. Good day, Lord Hades."

As Hades watched the man return to his workshop, he allowed a small smile of his own to escape.

* * *

It had been a long day, and at the end of his patrol, he was finally able to return to his cavern underground, what had become his home since his banishment. As with every night prior, he conjured a table with a wave of his hand. The table was set, a thick cloth covering the surface, corners hanging over the sides, candles and gleaming silverware laid out. A plate sat on one end. On it would normally be a meal of some sort, succulent grilled lamb chops with a medley of roasted vegetables, tender braised beef with a side of warm bread… Today there was a simple white pasta dish with greens intermingled between the strands of noodles.

Hades picked up a fork from the table and placed it into the mound of noodles. A couple of turns later and several strands of pasta were neatly wrapped around the tines of the fork. He lifted the utensil to his mouth and relieved it of its burden, chewing gingerly.

It wasn't that he needed to eat; as a god, his body was not prone to hunger or the feelings of weakness and pain that accompanied it when prolonged. However, gods did enjoy food, all of the different flavors and textures. There was nothing quite like biting into an apple, the juice bursting in one's mouth, stinging the tongue with its tartness before being replaced by a subtle sweetness. Alcohol was a favorite as well, since its effects could be felt even by gods if one imbibed enough of the liquid.

While he had never approved of decadence, Hades had shared in the other gods' fascination with food, as well as with all of the new innovations humans made in the culinary arts. There had been times during his prolonged visits to the Underworld when he would conjure food to enjoy and a glass of wine to help relax.

Of course, all of that had been when he had still been only a visitor here.

Ever since that fateful day, food turned to ash in his mouth. He had tried everything from all over the world, but the results never changed. Today was no different.

Sometimes he could taste a hint of the flavor of wine on his tongue. But it was tantalizing, and endlessly frustrating, that hint of something real, but in the end all too ephemeral.

Angered, Hades spat out the offending substance, then used both hands to flip the table. The piece of furniture flew several feet, everything on it hitting the stone floor. The plate and glass shattered on impact, the food and drink strewn everywhere; the flame on the candle had caught the tablecloth in its descent, and now spread along the cloth, devouring it, its size increasing slowly but surely.

Hades stared impassively, watching as the flames and their shadows on the cave walls danced, wondering how long the flames would burn if left unchecked. The action had been cathartic in the moment, but ultimately pointless, so he vanished the entire mess.

There was a moment of consideration, then a wave, and the glass of wine was recalled. He took a sip of the liquid, and tried to hold onto the small taste of life the curse still allowed him.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Original Curse**

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.

Summary: They disdained that which they did not understand, and feared it even more. And so they cast it away, banishing it to the deepest depths they knew, far away from Olympus. There was only one problem: there was no one to guard it and all the souls that entered it.

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

Hades strode down the hall flanked by curving colonnades, with the landscape of Olympus beyond them. He took a deep breath, trying to fill his dead lungs with the air of Olympus—pure, rife with the different magic from all the spells being worked on the mount. Gods he'd missed this place, and the life and vitality that practically resonated from it. It was the complete opposite of his domain, where no matter how lively or energetic the souls were, the air was stale and the atmosphere devoid of life, which had only gotten worse as the centuries passed and the natural magic of the realm slowly depleted—another effect of Zeus' meddling with the natural order.

A wave of loathing rose within Hades at the thought of his brother. Zeus would kill him just to avoid admitting to having made a mistake and remedying it, because that was exactly what separating the Underworld from Olympus had been. Then again, Zeus hadn't really killed him, had he? He'd cursed him, and in many ways, that was worse, because curses didn't kill—they condemned the victims to a suffering worse than death.

 _It's only temporary_ , he'd said. _I'll release you once we figure out an alternative solution_ , he'd promised.

And yet, several centuries down the line, still nothing was being done. And every time Hades broached the subject with Zeus, it was always the same. _Not yet. We're doing everything to solve this problem_ —if solving the problem involved drowning oneself in spirits and chasing after anything that walked on two legs.

At this rate, Hades would spend eternity as a prisoner, alienated from his home. No. If he wanted the curse broken, he had to do it himself, of that he was certain—which was what had led him to where he stood now.

Before him rose a flight of steps he knew led to a massive stone temple that shone in the sunlight. On either side of the entrance was a towering gold statue of a man muscular in build, handsome and youthful in appearance. The statue on the left held one hand up to the sky, a thoughtful expression chiseled into the stone face, as if the figure were seeking knowledge from the heavens. The one on the right shared the same features, except he raised a bow, arrow pointed at some unseen foe, expression fierce.

Hades slipped between the two figures and entered the temple. His steps echoed down the hall as he walked. The hall was lined with more statues like the ones outside, each one in a different pose. He paid them little mind and soon came into the central room, circular in design. Long stone altars were spaced at equal intervals around the room, with a throne at the center on the far side.

Seeing that the throne was empty, Hades surveyed the area before making his way to the leftmost altar and examining the objects that sat atop it. He saw a lyre, an ocarina, and an assortment of other musical instruments composed of various precious substances such as jade or gold. The lyre reminded him of a musician who had once traversed the Underworld in search of his dearly departed wife. He had had nothing to offer but the images he conjured and the tales he spun through music. For three days and three nights, the mortal wove tales of joy, anguish, love, loathing, life, and loss. For three days and three nights, Hades had experienced the musician's life, and in the end, because the melody had allowed him to feel once more, he released the soul of the man's wife. He plucked several strings on the lyre before him now, but only noise, not music, resulted from his graceless touch. With a sigh, he moved on.

On the second slab he discovered scrolls of various lengths laid out for display, the corners weighed down with miniature gold figurines resembling the ones outside, these wielding a parchment and quill. Hades skimmed the contents of one of the parchments and wrinkled his nose in distaste; it was a poem written by some apparently love-sick female, the words worshipful and sickeningly saccharine. Another one, judging by the blatant self-adulation and first-person perspective, he could only guess had been written by the temple's own inhabitant. He didn't bother looking at the rest.

The third altar was a disorganized arrangement of variously sized pots, with a mess of dirt, seeds and clippings strewn across the surface. The pots contained plants of various shapes and colors. He thought there were a couple varieties of nightshade in the mix, but most of them he didn't recognize. One small bowl, somewhat out of place on the table, housed a crushed dark green substance resembling moss. Some intact leaves of the original plant could still be made out; they had a rather unique appearance which resembled a line of grass blades running along the midrib on either side. Although no flame could be seen, the contents were burning gently, giving off a rather strong scent. Standing there, Hades could feel something in the substance tickling at his mind, trying to numb him, whispering for him to let go of all his worries. He frowned and moved away. There was also one pot larger than the others; a trunk with a twisting frame sprouted from the dirt. It was barely a foot in height, but its top had split into a dozen branches and already the first signs of fruit had begun to weigh down the thin boughs. Hades touched one of the small golden drops with interest when a burst of light to his right signaled a new arrival.

Hades turned and found the person depicted in the numerous sculptures he'd seen upon his arrival in the flesh, lounging on the previously empty throne.

"Haven't seen you in a while, Hades. How's life under the earth?" the entrant asked, tone haughty and annoying. Just the way Hades remembered.

"Hello, Apollo," greeted Hades. "It is as one would expect."

"Dull, then," stated Apollo, yawning. "What do you think of my collection of herbs?" he asked, gesturing to the pots beside Hades.

Hades pointed to the contents of the bowl he had noticed earlier. "What do your worshippers do with _that_?" he asked. Apollo opened his mouth to answer, but Hades cut him off. "No, wait. I'd rather not know."

The other god threw his head back and laughed. "Still a stick in the mud," he said.

Hades sighed. Best to get on with it.

"Apollo, I have come to ask…" he grimaced before continuing, "for a favor." The word tasted bitter on his tongue.

Apollo contemplated the request for a moment, then asked, "What have you brought me as an offering?"

Hades stared at the god in slight bewilderment; he had expected outright refusal, considered highly reluctant aid, but not this. "I haven't brought anything…"

"Why not?" the god asked with a frown.

"Because I'm not one of your starry-eyed fangirls," he responded, remembering the poem he'd read earlier.

Apollo leaned back in his overly ornate throne, obvious mirth dancing in his eyes.

"Nor do I want you to be. A starry-eyed Hades? The world might end." Since he still needed the god's help, Hades bit back his retort. Apollo continued without waiting for a response. "Nevertheless, you seek my aid. And in order to receive it, you must pay tribute."

Hades gritted his teeth. Tributes were the currency of worshippers, used to express gratitude or garner a god's patronage; Apollo had no right demanding one from another god. It took him a few seconds to calm down, and then several more to get past the indignation that had flared up in his chest before he could think about the situation clearly. He supposed it could have been worse. Apollo could have flat out refused to help; that he wanted something in exchange meant that aid was available—just not for free. And if the other god had insight to offer into his predicament, what was a measly offering compared to what could be gained?

Images of the baubles he had accumulated over the years flashed across his inner eye—jewels, paintings, carvings, and more. He wasn't particularly attached to any of it, but was there something that would satisfy Apollo's ridiculous standards?

"I'm waiting…" said the god, his features arranged in a bored expression.

Hades ignored him and continued to think. What did he know about Apollo? He knew the god was annoying, but that was irrelevant. He was in love with himself—also not helpful. He liked beautiful things… He had it. Several decades ago, an object had come into his possession; it was not only a depiction of beauty, but was also a product of human creativity and skill. Given that Apollo was a patron to the arts, such a gift should be more than appropriate.

He visualized the interior of his cavern, allowing his mind to lead him to the place where he had stored the object he desired, until it stared back at him from the other side of a glass cabinet. He turned over his hand and summoned the object. It dropped into his palm, its metal base cool against his skin as he presented it to the other god.

"It is a bronze statuette that had been used as the model for Michelangelo's famous _David_ , which is lauded as a masterpiece and stands now at the entrance to the Palazzo Vecchio in Italy."

Apollo took his time examining the miniature figure, turning it over in his hand and inspecting the work for flaws. At last, he made a sound of approval and placed the statuette on the stand beside him.

"You know, I was the model for the David sculpture. Michelangelo saw me during one of my excursions to Italy and was so enraptured by my beauty that he slaved for years carving marble to my likeness."

"That is simply amazing," Hades said dryly. Amazing how the god actually expected people to believe him. The two weren't even associated with the same pantheon for goodness' sake.

"It is indeed an appropriate gift for one so cultivated as myself." Hades opened his mouth to make his request, only to close it again as Apollo raised his hand. "However, my powers of foresight tell me that the favor you wish to ask will require much more energy than I typically expend on one individual. It will require… a second offering."

Hades glared at the seated figure; he didn't need the power of foresight to see what was happening here; he was clearly being extorted. However, he knew from past experience that arguing with Apollo was usually more trouble than it was worth. And it wasn't as if he couldn't afford to pay the fee.

Recalling the second altar in the room and the contents atop it, Hades knew what his second gift would be. There had been a recent addition to his domain, a talented poet from the east who had set up shop on a corner of the main street in the Underworld, peddling poetry he called haikus. Hades had briefly studied the form of these poems originating from the man's homeland, the style of which he had found extremely interesting.

Placing his hand behind his back, he conjured a scroll. Using his magic, he wrote a line of poetry upon the parchment before bringing it forward.

"A poem in the style of a nation in the east."

The other god took the parchment from Hades, unrolling it to reveal a surface with gilded edges featuring a long line of suns that encircled a line of words in the center. Apollo smiled as his eyes scanned the words.

 _Bathed in golden light, / He stands still, majestically, / All hail the sun god._

"This poem speaks the truth. Your offering has been accepted." Hades' previous conclusion had been wrong; knowing the size of Apollo's ego _had_ been useful. Apollo rolled the scroll back up before setting it on the stand, next to the statue. "Now, ask your question so that you may receive your prophecy from the god of prophecy himself," he said, opening his arms in what he probably imagined was a magnanimous gesture.

"How do I break the curse Zeus cast upon me?" Hades asked, barely able to contain the eagerness that colored his words.

Apollo stood and raised his arms above his head as if beseeching some entity above, not unlike the sculpture outside; his eyes clouded over until only white could be seen, and a golden glow began to emanate from the god's skin.

Hades was fairly sure the scene before him was just for show, meant to awe the ignorant masses and nothing more. It would be just like Apollo to make a spectacle out of answering a simple question. Just as he thought this, however, a wave of power shot forth from the oracular god in all directions. Hades felt his skin prickle as it washed over him. Then Apollo began to speak, his voice echoing from every corner of the room. He might as well have broadcast their entire conversation to Zeus. Annoyed, Hades set up a barrier around the perimeter of the room, sound-proofing it to ensure no one beyond its confines could hear what was being said within.

"You seek that which is both pure and true, / The other half which will complete you. / Good and evil become the same, / You will know when you hear the name."

Apollo lowered his arms, and the energy that had filled the room previously dissipated. That was all the god had to say on the matter, apparently, which was to say—nothing at all.

"Which means what, exactly?" Hades asked. "You know nobody can understand your riddles."

The haze retreated, leaving dark eyes that stared back at Hades with contempt. Apollo huffed, crossing his arms over his chest sullenly.

"I am _giving_ it a sense of mystery. You're _welcome_."

"All you did was give me a lame rhyme that didn't even make sense, and certainly didn't answer my question."

Apollo dropped back onto his throne, a decidedly fed up expression plastered on his features.

"Fine, if you're going to be like that. Your problem is a matter of the heart, and its only cure is that most elusive of magics—true love. And for that, you can only consult our resident expert on such matters."

" _That's_ all you have for me?"

"I have just divulged to you invaluable information for the next stage of your quest," Apollo stated indignantly.

"All you did was take my offerings and tell me to go to someone else for the help I paid _you_ for!" Hades exclaimed. "Either you tell me what you saw of the future, or you won't have one," he threatened.

"Oh please, Hades. Zeus may get his kicks telling all the gods that you reap death and destruction wherever you go, but _I'm_ not stupid enough to believe it. If you had that ability, Zeus would be a pile of dust right now."

"He does _what_?"

"Oops. Guess I said too much. Anyway, I have fulfilled my end of the exchange. I'm leaving now, and I'm taking these with me." He disappeared in a burst of golden light.

When Hades glanced at the stand, he noticed that the scroll and statuette were gone as well.

"Glorified fortune teller," Hades muttered under his breath, knowing full well Apollo could hear everything uttered within the walls of his temple. The fact gave him a small amount of satisfaction. Well, that, and the small prize he had acquired before the god's arrival. He reached into his pocket and brought out a small golden seed. Smiling, he closed his fist and returned home in a coil of blue flames.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Original Curse**

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.

Summary: They disdained that which they did not understand, and feared it even more. And so they cast it away, banishing it to the deepest depths they knew, far away from Olympus. There was only one problem: there was no one to guard it and all the souls that entered it.

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

Following Apollo's advice, Hades had decided to pay a call to another deity.

However, visiting the temples of two gods with whom he rarely associated, both within a week of one another, threatened to attract the attention of people he would rather remained unawares. That was why he was not on Olympus for this visit, but at a temple erected to the deity by mortal worshippers.

The white structure before him was just as large as Apollo's, except in place of regular pillars, the building's roof was held up by caryatids of the goddess to whom the temple was dedicated. Careful attention had been paid to each sculpture, with great detail in the renderings of the goddess' features. The entrance was a trellised archway of wood, with vines of roses that entwined the structure. As Hades stepped across the threshold, something tugged at his arm. Looking down, he saw that the sleeve of his shirt had been caught on the thorns that also sprouted from the vines, hidden beneath the rose petals and woodwork. Lifting the cloth from the thorn, he idly wondered how many people had been pricked as they passed through.

A minute later, he stood before the entrance to the temple's central room. It was covered with silver gauze-like material, thin and translucent. As he pushed aside the cloth and stepped through to the other side, he was met with a room that featured the same material, in various shades of silver and blue, hanging from all four walls. Glowing orbs hung suspended in the air around the room, casting a soft white light over the space and setting the veils shimmering.

He was pleased to note that the goddess of the temple was already present, no doubt because she had felt his presence here. She leaned on the armrest of a plush chaise lounge set in the center of the room, watching him as he moved forward. Her features didn't quite match the pillars outside, but it was to be expected. After all, it was widely known that the goddess of love's appearance was as inconstant as the identities of her many lovers.

"No longer blonde, I see," he commented.

"I think black hair works well for me," Aphrodite responded, fluffing the thick curls that framed her face.

"Indeed it does," he agreed.

Considering Aphrodite's occupation, Hades would be surprised if anything _didn't_ work for her. She didn't just set the standard for beauty, she _was_ the standard. There were countless realms in the world, and even within one single realm there existed numerous standards of beauty, but every one of them was based on Aphrodite. Thin, heavy, small, ample, short, tall—regardless of the realm, every feature was combined flawlessly in the goddess, with certain traits dominating depending on her mood. But regardless of her appearance, it always attracted. That was just a natural part of her magic.

Aphrodite quirked an eyebrow.

"What is it you hide behind your back, Hades?" she asked, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Hades smiled. "Can't put anything past you, can I?"

Apollo was an arrogant prat, and had skin as thick as a rhinoceros. No matter how Hades criticized the god, the man's ego would bounce back every time, so he didn't have to worry about being indelicate. Aphrodite, however, required a different approach. Luckily, he had learned his lesson from his encounter with the oracular god, and this time came prepared.

He brought his arm out from behind his back. Aphrodite leaned forward, and he held up his gift for examination. In his hand hung a fine gold chain comprised of small, intricate links. From the links hung drops of jade set in gold, their color a dark emerald, with soft lines of milky white running across the surface. Ten stones ran the length of the chain, leading to the center, where there hung a piece of white jade that had been carved into the form of a dove in flight, suspended by its wingtips.

"A hand-crafted jade necklace I found during one of my visits to a nation in the east." It had worked the first time, why not again? "When I saw it, I knew that I had to acquire it for you."

There was a tinkling laughter at the comment. Hades heard a little voice in his mind, quietly suggesting that perhaps he would like to hear her laugh more, and what better way than with the necklace?

"Aphrodite," he chided. "You needn't use your magic on me. I'm already giving you the necklace."

"Then you won't mind helping me put it on."

Aphrodite turned her back, using one hand to lift her curls. He stepped up, put the necklace in place and closed the clasp.

"How do I look?" she asked, facing him once more.

He noticed that her eyes, previously a dark brown, had changed to a deep emerald to match the gemstone's hue.

"It brings out the color in your eyes," he said, smirking.

She swatted him on the arm for his cheek, causing him to stumble back a step before he quickly regained his balance. Gentle and disarming though Aphrodite may have appeared, she still possessed the strength of a god; he needed to remember not to underestimate her. Nonetheless, he could tell she was pleased with the gift.

"Now, why have you really come?" she demanded.

"Astute as always."

"You were never terribly social, Hades. If you're putting effort into being charming and spending the precious time you have away from your realm in my temple, then it must be important."

"Indeed," Hades admitted. "I was told that you may have the solution to my particular problem."

He then launched into an account of the events that had transpired between himself, Zeus and Poseidon. He couldn't be sure how much the general populace knew, but whatever knowledge they possessed was likely just propaganda devised by Zeus to make himself look good while demonizing Hades—Apollo had said as much. Hades also told her about his meeting with Apollo, and the advice the other god had given him, which had then led him to her.

Aphrodite listened to his tale quietly, her features betraying nothing. When Hades finished speaking, he felt a mounting trepidation. What if he had been wrong in coming here? He wasn't some lovesick puppy who wanted to get the girl. What could the goddess of love even do to help him? Already doubtful of success, what she said next caused an even greater weight of disappointment to fall over him.

"Apollo was right. What you need is true love's kiss; it can break any curse, including yours."

"I'm not even sure I'm capable of love," he reluctantly confessed.

"Oh sweetie, don't be absurd! Everyone is capable of love. And not to brag, but love is a quintessential part of life. If it weren't for me, the world might as well stop spinning."

"That's not what I mean." Hades sighed before continuing, "You know what Zeus did to me."

"Ah…" Aphrodite said delicately, comprehension dawning.

"My heart no longer beats within my breast, and I fear that I am dead inside figuratively as well as literally. I _feel_ less and less as the centuries pass, and I know with certainty that this will continue until I am devoid of all empathy. Tell me, Aphrodite. How would I even know if I had found true love? How will I know love when even simple joy is but the ghost of a memory?" Belatedly, Hades realized that he had said too much, revealed too much. Balefully, he glared at the goddess for her magic's effect on him. Why else would he confide his thoughts to her?

Aphrodite, seemingly unaware of this, had placed the tip of a perfectly manicured nail to her chin, appearing deep in contemplation. Hades noticed when an idea hit her. It was difficult not to; her entire face had lit up, and the room seemed a shade brighter for it. She was clearly pleased with whatever it was.

"How about this, Hades? I shall bestow upon you a gift—a spell that shall tell you when you have met the right one."

"What will it do?" he asked, wary about having another spell cast on his person after Zeus' duplicity.

"You'll know when the time comes," she replied, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. Hades could feel the nature of her magic like tugs on his consciousness, inviting him to share in her secret. He shook it off, and concentrated on other matters.

"Why would you help me?" he asked, suspicious.

"I'm the goddess of love. Need I say more?"

While the spell—whatever it was—sounded useful, Hades certainly didn't want to sit around for who knows how many millennia waiting for it to finally kick in. He wanted the curse ended _now_.

"Couldn't you simply use your magic to restart my heart?"

"I'm afraid that is beyond my powers."

"I don't believe that. You tell me that only love can break my curse, and you're the _goddess_ of love. Logically, you are the best person for the job."

"You men and your logic!" Aphrodite said, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "Love isn't about logic—it's about emotion, about something precious shared between two individuals, something fundamental and essential. We both know that magic is only as strong as its intent. Something fabricated from a spell just wouldn't be true—wouldn't be powerful enough to do what you want. You need the real thing."

She seemed fervent in her belief, but Hades wasn't entirely convinced. Aphrodite always had been quite dramatic. He knew he shouldn't have let his frustration get the better of him, but before he had fully considered the consequences, Hades snapped at the goddess.

"I don't know why I'm taking love advice from you, of all people. You're just as bad as Zeus when it comes to infidelity."

"How dare you!" Aphrodite's face had gone red with anger. A small part of him felt a tinge of regret, but that didn't stop him.

"Who are you to speak of true love, when you cheat on your husband at every opportunity?"

"That marriage was a result of Hera's machinations and you know it! Hephaestus is _not_ my true love."

"He loves you," Hades shot back. "Even a blind man could see it." Aphrodite's glower lessened in intensity at his words.

"I know," she said softly. "Believe me, I know. But Hades, what I'm talking about is a different beast altogether. It needs to be reciprocated."

Hades deflated somewhat upon hearing that. He supposed that was also why Aphrodite couldn't be the one to relieve him of his burden. Even if she was perfectly capable of manufacturing love between individuals if it suited her, he'd never heard any stories about curses being broken as a result.

"So, are we decided then? It's not every day that someone is fortunate enough to receive a gift from the goddess of love," she said.

Hades was fairly certain that gifts from Aphrodite were quotidian occurrences, nowhere near the rarity she made them out to be. The snide thought had crossed his mind without much prompting. He shook his head to clear his mind of these uncharitable thoughts. They had been occurring more frequently of late, and it disturbed him.

Realizing Aphrodite was still waiting for his response, he took her hand and brought it to his lips. Her skin was soft and it exuded a subtle scent, meant to allure.

"Yes, thank you, Aphrodite. You truly are as beautiful within as you are without."

"Such a gentleman," she teased. "Zeus could learn a thing or two from you." Hades met her eyes.

"Will you tell him I was here today?"

"Oh, he's too wrapped up in his own little world to care about what the rest of us get up to."

" _Will you tell him?_ " he asked again, more insistently this time.

"No, dear. In fact, I'm rooting for you and your love-to-be," she confided with a wink.

Hades was about to ask why, but thought better of it. Aphrodite's mind worked in strange ways, and he didn't really care anyway, as long as the curse was lifted. Squaring himself, he nodded to her, signaling he was ready.

She stood from her seat and stepped in close, leaving barely an inch between them.

He tensed as her palm was placed against his chest right above his heart. Automatically, he recalled how his brother had magically plunged his own hand into that very spot. But Aphrodite seemed to have no intention of doing such a thing. He felt her magic surge through her palm into his body. He became distracted from the process as once again, he caught her scent and felt the by now familiar magic that tried to pull him in. Idly, he noted that she just couldn't help herself trying to sway the wills of others.

He was brought out of his thoughts as the pressure on his chest disappeared.

"It is done," she announced grandly.

Hades attuned his senses to his body. He felt no different, save for the trace amounts of her magic within him, but even those were fading fast. Being without any other choice, he supposed he would just have to trust her on this.

Hades bowed to the goddess and thanked her once more from the heart—or whatever was left of it anyway. Then doubt assailed him anew. Could he trust her to keep her word? What if Zeus wasn't nearly as preoccupied as she thought? The god had gone to a lot of trouble enacting this curse. It only made sense that he would do his best to ensure it wasn't broken; that's what Hades would have done.

Perhaps he should make a preemptive move. A single drop from the river Lethe and even a god would lose a day's worth of memories… No. Hades brought a hand to his eyes, trying to rub away the image of himself slipping water from the Lethe into Apollo's drink; and he _definitely_ couldn't do that to Aphrodite, not after all her help.

What was happening to him? When had everyone become disposable? He should go before he did something he would regret.

"Thank you again, Aphrodite. If you don't mind, I'll take my leave now."

He turned to go, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. Her expression was serious as he turned to face her.

"I'll give you one last piece of advice, Hades. Like all magic, love is comprised of many facets—light and dark amongst them. It is capable of making a person both incredibly happy as well as unbearably miserable. It can be the start of something beautiful, or lead one to desolation and ruination. I know you think being under Zeus' curse is unbearable, but what frees you from it could be just as bad, maybe even worse."

Hades dismissed her words with a wave of his hand. "You're wrong, Aphrodite. Nothing could be worse than this half-life to which he has condemned me."

He began walking away. As he was about to exit the temple, Aphrodite's final words caught up to him.

"I hope you're right."

He knew he was.


End file.
